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When I said I would go to the rehab place, no one prepared me for a ranch in the heart of nowhere. A heads-up would’ve been nice—a chance to brace myself. One open field looks just like another one. Specifically, the one that imprisoned me. The weight on my chest gets heavier with each passing sight of yellow cornfields.
The officer seated next to me senses my rising panic. “These are good people,” he offers in a calming tone. I turn my head toward him. “They won’t let anything happen to you. I shouldn’t tell you this, but they are part of the FBI family. Their daughter and son-in-law are both in law enforcement. They understand the importance of keeping you safe.”
I nod, hearing his words, but they provide little solace against the storm of anxiety raging within me. Resigned to the fact my inner demons will follow me wherever I go, I fix my gaze back out the passenger window.
Smells I once loved twist my insides the moment the door opens for me. Fresh country air, wild grass, and dirt. Mother Earth’s stench forces itself to the back of my throat, and it takes a concerted effort to remember to breathe.
Smells like death now.
My death.
Taking quick, shallow breaths to avoid passing out, I follow the officer up the dirt driveway toward the ranch-style house. A man in a cowboy hat and boots stands beside a woman with the sweetest, most sincere smile. She descends the three steps to meet us.
“Hi, Kali, I’m Amy,” she greets me and points over her shoulder with her thumb. “And that’s my husband, Ted.”
“Hi,” I choke out with a small wave, then cover my mouth and nose with my hand, pulling in the scent of the sterile bandages. “Do you mind if we go inside?”
Without hesitation, Amy replies with a wave, “C’mon, I’ll show you to your room.”
As I follow her through the farmhouse, I steal glances at collections of family pictures along the way. She has a large family. I stop and stare at one that was taken right on her porch. Everyone is making a funny face. Except Amy. You can see the adoration on her face as she looks at her crazy family.
“They’re all nuts,” she jokes, looking over my shoulder at the picture.
I would do anything to belong to a large, loving, crazy family like that. We continue down a lengthy hallway. “Here you are,” she says, gesturing to the room. We walk into a bright yellow room, and she places my bag on the quilt with sunflowers all over. “The bathroom is fully stocked with whatever you need,” she adds, pointing to an open door. “Do you need anything right now? Something to eat or drink?”
I shake my head. “No, thank you. I’m kind of tired. Is it ok if I just hang out in here?”
Her eyes fill with concern and empathy. “Of course. Just know we’re here if you need us. Dr. Betty will be out in the morning. She wanted to give you a little time to get settled.”
That would imply I’m going to get settled. In a place that reeks like death. Not likely.
Amy shuts the door behind her. The hum of the air conditioner brings a welcome coolness to my overheated skin until a shiver runs down my sweat ridden back. Uncomfortable with the silence, I grab my phone. I wiggle my free thumbs. Before leaving the hospital, they were able to wrap each finger individually on my left hand and keep my thumb out with just a Band-Aid around my knuckle. Still not easy, but usable. Very mummy-like. Enough to be able to hold things and use my phone. The right is still wrapped like a mitten. I open Spotify, turning on a random playlist. The nurses helped me set up the music app on my phone. I don’t remember most of the things they told me the phone could do, but I paid extra attention to this one.
A wooden rocking chair by the window reminds me of the ones Blackburn’s gossip crew would sit on, whispering away as people walked by. I can imagine that I’m the current topic. I turn it to face outside and sink into it, pushing off with my foot for a soft rock.
As I look out the window to a field of horses eating, a specific one grabs my attention.
“What do they feed that monster?” I whisper to myself, staring at a larger-than-life red horse. He and a white and black sheep dog play with a big blue exercise ball. Entranced by the two oddly paired friends and a best of the eighties country playlist, I lose track of time until a gentle knock at the door pulls me away.
Wrapped in a blanket, feeling at ease in the warm glow of the evening sun, rather than get up, I say, “Come in.”
The wooden door creaks open, and Amy peeks inside. When she spots me settled in the rocking chair, she walks in and slides a tray full of food on the dresser. “Thought you might be hungry. We’d love to have you join us at the dinner table, but we understand if you’d like to be alone right now.”
Do I want to be alone? No, I don’t. But I don’t want to be around a table of strangers either. I glance back out the window. “They make an odd couple,” I remark, pointing.
Amy laughs over my shoulder when she gets a glimpse of the peculiar duo. “They are inseparable. The dog is Charlie, and that’s Rusty, a.k.a. Ketchup.”
I pull my gaze from the window and look up. “Ketchup?”
Her smile reaches her eyes, settling on the edge of the bed. “My granddaughter’s nickname is Tater Tot, and she thinks Rusty is hers. In her words, tater tots always go with ketchup.”
“That’s adorable.”
“You’ll partner with Rusty.” Partner? What does that mean? As my eyes widen in surprise, she reassures me, “He’s a gentle giant. Don’t worry, you’ll fall in love with him.”
Still confused as to my role in partnering with that towering creature, my gaze flickers to him, now munching on some hay. Returning my gaze to Amy, I bite my lip, hesitating to express my lack of enthusiasm. “I’ve only ridden a horse once, when I was like five. It didn’t go so well. My feet do better on the ground.”
Amy’s lips twist, and she asks, “Did Dr. Betty talk to you about equine therapy?”
